Chapter 11 - The Upper Hand

                                    

                                          
⚠️(Trigger) Warning: mental issues and violence}
[When someone speaks English I'll type the parts bold.]
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Hello everyone,
thank you all so much for your kind words and encouragement. 🙏❤❤❤
I'm sorry for I letting you wait. 🙇‍♂️
Unfortunately I can't make any promises how fast I can continue. I'll do my very best. Thank you so much that you are still here. 😘
Have fun. 😊 Let's go.
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Pete's POV
After I got dressed again Vegas let me go to my room to take a rest. He had also released me from my duties for today. I told him I would still be able to work, even with the bruises, but he flatly rejected that. 
It made me uncomfortable that he was so caring. It annoyed me that he seemed to think I was so frail. I didn't wanted to be a nuisance to him. To anybody!
I took off my shirt (actually still Vegas' shirt) and looked in the mirror, checking my torso. The memory of how those scars were inflicted on my chest came to my mind. Vegas' behavior just now, his guilty expression would make sense if it was him who had done that to me.
If he regrets it.
But anyways, regret or not, I was pretty sure by now that it was him. I didn't know why I couldn't remember his face, but it was obvious. And now there were so many more questions on my mind.
Actually these wounds still didn't bother me much. But I wondered so hard why Vegas had done this. It wasn't about being mad or scared, but because this kind of torture seemed atypical to Vegas.
I thought back to the man from the casino he had tortured. It had been bloody and cruel. Little force for a lot of damage and suffering that had been caused. He had acted coolly and deliberately.
The way I was beaten seemed more emotional. A great deal of force was used and even though my skin was cut open, the actual intensity of the pain was relatively low compared to other torture methods. He had also spared my face.
Based on the number of wounds there can't have been many strokes. I wasn't able to count, the memory was to blurred for that, but as far as I remembered it was over quickly. Why did he stop so soon? And why a belt? So random. He could have used other tools to cause more pain and damage. If it was simply about causing pain. A flogger or a whip could have torn my chest open to the ribs, an iron bar could have break my bones. Needless to say, what his little case of shiny surgical tools could have done to me.
Even if I was lucky these ideas had not occurred to him. Or he didn't want to do it... 
As often as I turned it back and forth, it seemed too lax for torture and too much damage was done for simple punishment. And I had no guess how I got into this situation at all. 
What did I do to him to make him angry like that? Did he catch me spying? But he caught me before already and never used violence. Why was I still alive and how come that Khun Kinn sent me here and Vegas accepted it, if there had been an issue between us already? What was going on here?
I felt the lighting of pain in my head again and groaned from the intensity. It seemed like my mind didn't want to show me more memories than that. 
I remembered Dr. Top's words when he bandaged my chest at the hospital. 
"You didn't lose your memories from a head injury, Khun Pete. I therefore assume a psychological cause. That means that probably if you do remember something, you'll start with the 'easier' memories first, the ones that don't stress you too much emotionally."